


Love, Sherlock

by WalkingInMoonlight



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotions, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Not Abandoned, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sherlock Holmes Misses John Watson, Updated Infrequently and Randomly, so he writes letters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2018-12-22 08:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11963427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkingInMoonlight/pseuds/WalkingInMoonlight
Summary: What if Sherlock wrote letters to John during the two years he was dismantling Moriarty's web? What if Sherlock kept these letters with him, as a reminder? And what happens when John finds them?*Updates are slow and sporadic, as I'm in school and have writer's block most of the time.*





	1. Explanations and Promises

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the short chapters, but Sherlock really wouldn't have time to write much while on the run.

March 25th, 2012

Somewhere in America

 

John,

I need to explain some things.

I'm not dead, despite what you think. I know it looked like I jumped off that roof, and I did. "Who jumps face-first?" You may wonder. The answer: Me. I had to protect my head in order to survive. The doctors you saw clustered around me rushed me to surgery straight after. Molly provided a corpse that looked similar to me.

You knew Moriarty made me jump. What you didn't - and still don't - know is that he had snipers trained on you, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. If I hadn't jumped, all three of you would've met very surprising - and tragic - ends.

I'm sorry. So, so sorry. You must be feeling my loss dreadfully. But I promise, I will come back. I'll always come back for you.

Sherlock


	2. I Miss You

March 27th, 2012

Still Somewhere in America

John,

It’s only been a few months since I left, but I miss you. I miss the way we used to talk late into the night about old cases and funny stories. I miss the familiar sounds of you heading off to work before I was even out of bed. I miss takeaway and you laughing at crap telly. I miss everything.

But, since I have at least another year before I can come back, I can make do with writing about what I’ve done so far. At least I can do that.

I was in England for about a month after you saw me fall. Moriarty’s web is scarce there. I’m glad of that, for it means you are not in danger. I had asked Mycroft to keep track of you, and he did. I got updates regularly. At least, until I lost my phone. Then things went to insanity.

I have to move sporadically and randomly, so that it is not easy to track me. After England, I came here. Wherever ‘here’ is. 

John, it’s the closest thing to Hell I can imagine. I have no form of contact with anyone, little food, no hygiene, no clean clothes. My violin is at home, so I have no form of distraction from anything. Worst of all, I don’t know how you are. I don’t know if you’ve been sick, or if you’re healthy, or if you’re still grieving. I truly am lost without my blogger.

This is all I can write for now, John. I’m exhausted, hungry and lonely. I’m going to lie down and try to sleep before I have to run again.

Sherlock


	3. Emotions

March 28, 2012

America

 

Dear John,

I know you think me incapable of emotion, or that I loathe it. Neither of these conclusions are correct. Granted, I find emotion difficult at times. I think I truly was incapable of it before I knew you. At other times, however, it feels completely natural to me. I cannot explain it. I can only say this:

When you turned to face me on that pool deck two years ago, I had to keep myself from breaking down. Seeing those bombs strapped to you… It is difficult to write about even now. All I know is that pointing that gun at Moriarty kept me from crying out in fear for you. Once the bombs were off of you, it was all I could do not to embrace you. One more thing you never knew was that I had a nightmare that night. It was exactly what happened at the pool, except… the bombs went off. I woke up sobbing into my pillow. 

So yes, it was that night I realized that I actually could let emotions get to me. And it was because of you.

SH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was strangely difficult for me to write. While I can clearly imagine the Sherlock in my head writing these things, I somehow can't write them myself. It's really weird.


	4. You

April 12, 2012

America

Dear John,

I try to sleep, but it doesn’t always work. When insomnia takes hold, I analyze you instead. I analyze you: the soldier, you: the doctor, and you: the friend. When we’re on a case, the soldier is at the forefront. You’re constantly aware, always by my side or behind me. If anyone’s in danger, your gun is immediately out and you’re in the attacker’s face. Yet you know when to hide, too. In that way, you’re more clever than I. 

At home, after the case, you are the doctor. When I haven’t eaten in days, you make me eat. When I’m injured, you tend to whatever wounds I might have. When I haven’t slept in days, you make me a cup of sweet tea and send me to bed. In those moments, I admired you for putting me before yourself.

Finally, you as my one and only friend. You are loyal, staying with me on my “danger nights,” as Mycroft calls them. You are sweet, taking care of me. But most of all is the easy banter we share. My sarcastic comments and your mild replies. Our little arguments that are always solved the next day. My oblivion to your various girlfriends and dates and you being fine with it.

This is what I think about at 1:00 am, lying amidst the trees, sometimes crying. I think of you.

Yours,

Sherlock


End file.
